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Chapter Five—Wards

You are powerful.

That was the conclusion Harry had heard ringing in his head like a bell for hours and days on end.

It had to work against the other, older rhythm that was already there, of course, the one that insisted he was weak and worthless. The one that insisted wandless magic was something everybody could do and that everyone else did better than he did in classes and the one that said he was pathetic because he couldn't even stand up to the Dursleys.

But he had frightened Nott. He knew that now. Power was there, waiting for him to claim it, and it didn't need to look like the way Malfoy or Snape or Nott defined it.

Harry stood up and looped his tie around his neck, hesitating for just a moment before he deliberately tied it in an untidy circle.

Snape would probably pick on him at breakfast this morning anyway, because that was what he did, but this way, Harry at least knew what it would be for.

Then he reached out and smoothed his hand down the air next to his bed. The ward he had already prepared and coiled around emptiness hissed its readiness at him. In fact, it wanted to explode right now and wrap itself around Malfoy or Zabini or someone else snickering under their breaths at him.

Harry didn't let it, but it was difficult to restrain his magic.

"Why are you petting empty air, Potty?" Goyle asked with a sneer.

"Only kind of pet he has," Zabini said, and both of them broke into guffaws.

Harry clenched one hand down at his side, out of their sight, but he found it was easier to ignore them than ever, given what he—and he alone—knew was going to happen in a few minutes. He walked out of the dormitory, and the ward came with him, an invisible coil of magic that wanted to choke somebody.

Harry smiled.

Snape was going to hurt, and in public. And although he would probably suspect the truth and assign Harry more detentions than ever, he would only do it because he blamed Harry for everything. No one else would, because they thought Harry too weak to do something like this.

A slight noise sounded behind him, close enough that Harry turned with his hand on his wand. But it was only Nott, watching him with opaque eyes before he turned back to reading his book on the couch nearest the fire.

Harry shook his head and walked out the doorway of the common room.

Maybe one person. But Nott would keep quiet if he knew what was good for him.

Theo walked to breakfast with a tingling sense of anticipation that he didn't try to hide. And not only because both Blaise and Millicent watched him closely, and Draco avoided him with rosy cheeks.

Something was going to happen today. To Snape.

Potter had walked with too much of a spring in his step for that not to be true.

Potter sat down near the far side of the bench, as usual. He kept his head bowed, as usual, and ate small portions. Theo narrowed his eyes a little. Things that he had once made fun of, and then dismissed, were striking him in the eyes like grains of sand these days.

Had Potter always been that thin? Had his wrists always stuck out of his sleeves as though he had Transfigured sticks to use as arms?

Snape swept into the Great Hall. Theo picked up a piece of toast and ate it dry, turning his head enough so that he could still see both Potter and their Head of House, but slowly enough that he wouldn't be obvious about it.

"Potter!" Snape barked, coming to a stop by the table.

Theo thought he was the only one who felt the air around Potter thrum, and something twisting towards Snape like a snake. But he could turn with the rest of the Slytherins to watch the morning's "entertainment." Draco in particular was leaning forwards, one hand braced on the table, as if he looked forward to this the more since Theo was no longer letting him make fun of Potter based on blood status.

Potter looked up. His face was blank.

Not his eyes.

Theo had to swallow, and then hold back the urge to choke on his toast, at what the look in those eyes did to him.

Harry looked up. For a moment, it seemed the air all around him sang like sunrise, like the hope he had felt when he made friends with Ron on the train. He knew what was going to happen and he didn't know.

He knew his ward would take care of Snape, though, and for long moments, that was enough.

"Your tie isn't straight!" Snape said, and pointed at Harry's throat as if Harry might have forgotten where his tie was. "Detention for—"

The ward shot out and coiled around Snape.

Harry had made the ward out of will as much as magic, and it would adapt itself to any given situation. Had he intended it to protect him, then it would have become a ward that kept away spells if someone had hexed him, and one that bounced physical objects off itself if someone had flung a stone at him. This one reacted to Snape's intentions and turned the thing he'd intended to punish Harry for back on him.

Snape's robes undid themselves with a loud, harsh snapping of buttons, and sagged down around his shoulders.

The sound had gained a lot of people's attention, where the sound of Snape scolding Harry wouldn't have. There was a long moment of silence as people stared at Snape's pale shoulders and thin chest, and maybe his black trousers, if they could see them from a distance.

And then the laughter started.

Snape looked frozen, as though the ward had removed him from time as well as clothing. He stared at Harry, and said nothing. Harry wasn't entirely sure that he could have said anything.

And Harry himself wasn't laughing. He just stared at Snape with a cold, vicious satisfaction, and waited for what would happen next. It would probably be more detentions, but that was worth it. Anything was worth it.

Then Snape drew his wand.

Theo surged to his feet. The people sitting frozen around him, who included Blaise and Millicent, cowered back at the sudden movement.

Theo didn't care. He vaulted over the Slytherin table, cursing his own decision to sit on the other side and a fair distance away from Potter. It had been necessary for the deception, but what was deception going to matter if either Snape or Potter died today?

Theo drew his wand, but his hand was moving slowly, so slowly, and Potter only sat there as if he didn't believe that Snape drawing his wand could actually threaten him—

Albus stood.

"Severus!" he called, his voice as strong as he could make it. "Remember your oath!"

Harry wasn't sure what the Headmaster was talking about, and he wasn't sure it mattered. He sat and stared at Snape, whose wand—ebony, Harry noticed—was leveled straight at Harry's throat.

"How did you know?" Snape whispered. There was the sound of someone running towards them, but Harry couldn't turn away from the sheer hatred Snape was looking at him with. "You will tell me how you knew."

"How I knew what?"

Snape snarled, and struck.

And the second ward Harry had prepared, lying coiled around his feet like a silent snake, rose and deflected the spell back at Snape.

There was a moment of light and noise that Harry hadn't counted on, because he hadn't actually thought the ward would do anything more than bounce a curse, and then someone grabbed him around the middle and twisted hard with him. Harry fought back instinctively, memories of almost being drowned by Dudley that one time rearing their heads, but then went still under the other person as he heard cracking wood and grunts of pain.

When the noise had died, Harry shoved. The other person let him go and backed away. Harry bared his teeth when he saw Nott.

"What do you want?"

"Only to shield you," Nott said, and then stepped to the side, as if he knew how intolerable Harry would find it not to see what had happened right now.

Harry stared. They were about two meters away from the Slytherin table, which was missing the part of the bench where Harry had been sitting and a good portion of the tabletop. Wooden splinters lay scattered over the burn marks on the floor. Students were sobbing or gasping as they dealt with numerous small wounds the exploding table had apparently inflicted on them.

Snape was lying on the floor, unconscious. His right hand was a mangled mess of bones and meat and blood.

Lying next to him was approximately a third of an ebony wand, with a dragon heartstring sticking out of it.

Harry breathed out slowly and shook his head. The ward was only meant to answer violence for violence, spell for spell, which was why he didn't think the consequences would be this bad. He hadn't anticipated—

Snape was actually going to use a Blasting Curse on him?

Harry exhaled shakily this time and glanced at Nott. "Why did you get in between me and the curse?" he asked, noting for the first time that there were little spots of blood all over Nott's cheeks and chin. When he drew his wand, Harry instinctively tensed, but Nott was apparently healing a wound over his ribs.

"Because I wanted to."

Harry narrowed his eyes. "Is this part of your campaign of—"

He didn't have a chance to say more. Professor McGonagall and the Headmaster had both swept down from the professors' table, and both reached them at about the same time. The Headmaster reached out as if to jerk Harry to his feet from where he was sitting on the floor.

Nott turned and stared at Dumbledore with an absolutely blank expression. The Headmaster paused, and then took a step back and shook his head a little.

"We will have to investigate this," he said. "Professor McGonagall, if you will take Professor Snape to the hospital wing?"

Professor McGonagall was staring at Harry as if she had never seen him before. Harry stared back. She probably never had. He had done well enough on the Transfiguration OWL to get into the NEWT class, but, well, he didn't see the point in trying too hard in class when that would just make his roommates more focused on taunting him and wouldn't lessen the professor's disappointed looks. It was the NEWT that was important and which people would look at in the future, not the daily classwork. And Harry understood both theory and practice better when studying on his own.

"Yes, of course," McGonagall said a few moments later, and turned away from Harry with a slight twitch of her head. She went over to Snape and floated him into the air. Harry wondered idly if they could heal the man's hand.

Well, probably. They healed more severe injuries all the time, including some Quidditch ones. Probably they would take him to St. Mungo's, though. Harry didn't know how well Madam Pomfrey would handle this.

The thought caused a surge of vicious satisfaction in him.

"Mr. Potter," the Headmaster said. "If you would come with me?"

Harry stood up. He could feel eyes focused on him, but he ignored the ones from the Slytherin table. They would probably try to attack him for this, the ones who liked Snape, or taunt him more. The taunts would have no more impact than they had for years now, and if they came after him…

Well, they would regret it, now.

But Harry did feel as if someone was watching him from another direction, too, a specific and pointed gaze. He turned and met Ron Weasley's eyes from the Gryffindor table. Ron was motionless, one hand planted on the tabletop.

Harry just nodded to him and then turned and walked after Dumbledore. If questioned later, Ron would honestly be able to say that he hadn't known anything about Harry's plan to get revenge on Snape.

Footsteps followed him. Harry swiveled his head a notch and saw Nott pacing after him.

Harry frowned. Nott was a problem, and one that at the moment concerned him a lot more than whatever awaited him in the Headmaster's office.

No one had told Theo not to go with Potter and Dumbledore, so he followed. He caught Draco's eye on the way out, and Draco flushed and looked away as if he had been burned.

Theo smiled. It didn't greatly concern him if people did decide that Theo had cursed Draco out of some loyalty to Potter. Potter could obviously defend himself if attacked. Theo could do the same thing.

And if Potter didn't want Theo to speak up in his defense when they got to Dumbledore's office, then Theo would keep silent.

But if he did, or if the Headmaster asked questions about why Theo had moved as he had…

Theo felt a low thrum of excitement in his belly.

He felt more alive than he had in years.